A drop of water slides down my arm and he watches it drip to the floor.

“How was your bath?” he asks, voice deep and husky.

“So refreshing. Thank you for thinking of me.”

“Thank you for being so on this weekend. You were amazing.” Henry stands, striding toward me.

“Were? Are you implying I’m not amazing every day, Dawson?” I tease and he chuckles.

“You are. All day every day.”

“Good answer.”

We stare at each other, eyes locked. Who will break first? Who will nudge us closer to what we both want but might be too afraid to ask for?

Without speaking, he begins to unknot his tie, fingers working quickly to rid the material from around his neck.

“What do you like, Emma?” He runs the accessory through his fingers. I swallow, acutely aware of how badly I wish that tie was around my wrists.

“Pardon?”

He’s unbuttoning his shirt now, discarding it to the side, standing bare chested in front of me. “In bed. What do you like? I have an idea, but I need to hear it from you directly.”

Oh. I guess we’re jumping all in, then.

He’s quiet, waiting for me to speak, not pressuring, only encouraging me to take my time.

“You saw an excerpt from my book,” I start.

“I did. Sorry I can’t do much about the lack of wings.” He offers a boyish smile, and I relax with his lightheartedness.

“I think you make up for it in other areas.”

“What else from your book do you like?”

Taking a deep breath, I gather my courage. “I want you to tell me what to do. I want to ache and be sore and be filled. Everywhere. I want you to take me. All of me. Any way you want and wherever you want.”

He steps forward, rubbing the pulse point of my wrist. “What else? I know you’re not finished.”

“I spend so much of my life telling others what to do and helping everyone left and right. For once, I’d like to relinquish control and hand the responsibility over to someone else. To you. I want to enjoy without overthinking.”

He nods in understanding. His face is schooled, incredibly neutral, and I wonder what he’s thinking. “Let me get some clarification. Being told what to do… I doubt you want this to translate to your day-to-day life, correct? Can you be more specific? I want to get this right.”

“The second we leave the bedroom, it stops. In here, I want you to tell me when and where to bend over. When to open my mouth. What to do next. That sort of thing. Last night was spot on.”

Goosebumps sprout on my arms. I’ve revealed everything to him. Without answering, Henry unbuckles his belt, slides off his slacks, and kicks them away, leaving behind only black briefs.